Not Ammunition Is The Silverware
by JaxLass
Summary: Oneshot CotBP filler. Since the HMS Interceptor sank, Jack has been living with a secret pain – and it ain’t love.


**Disclaimer: Not mine. No surprise there.**

**NOT AMMUNITION IS THE SILVERWARE**

One-shot CotBP filler - A tiny, remote island somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean Sea.

Summary: Since the _Interceptor_ sank, Jack has been living with a secret pain – and it ain't love.

The late afternoon breeze lazily lifted palm fronts as it carried an odd sound along the pristine white shores. The two circling seagulls chirped in protest, but their cries could not be heard over the strange noises made by the odd creature below invading their territory.

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, we loot, drink up me hearties, yo--."

A giddy, wind-tossed young woman swayed, waving around a murky bottle, seemingly entertaining herself - although not alone. She stopped the song abruptly, surprised when she finally took notice of her companion's silence. He lay in the sand next to her, arms wrapped behind his neck, eyes closed. The sea's wind tugged lightly at his billowing white shirt and red bandana, sweeping wisps of loose dark hair across strikingly handsome features. A thin braided strand curled onto his neck, but he didn't twitch or swat at it. She realized now that he had been unusually quiet since he'd finished that last bottle of rum. She also noticed the second bottle lying crookedly, forgotten in the sand by his left thigh.

Why had he stopped drinking? Wasn't that what all pirates did when they weren't plundering richly loaded merchant vessels on the high seas?

"_Captain_ Sparrow?"

She bit the edge of her lip, once more wondering about the outrageous stories. It struck her as odd that instead of boastfully embracing his legend and trying to impress her -- which she had expected him to do, especially after he'd managed the feat of freeing himself from his bonds _underwater_. The infamous pirate had, instead, revealed himself as a mortal man – those dreadful scars on his upper body proving he was flesh and blood same as she was.

'_That's an interestin' song, to be sure, Miss Swann. I've not been called a bad egg what I know of, but I do like it. Would you kindly sing it again, please? I want to learn it.'_

"Captain Sparrow, I know you're not being rude - are you?" Lowering her own bottle to the sand, she leaned down a little unsteadily, maybe too close.

Rum, sea salt and sweat.

Only days ago she would have found such smells loathsome and offensive.

'_Do you ever bathe?'_

'_Every time I'm in the ocean, love.'_

Had it been only days before that she had been attending Commodore Norrington's promotion ceremony at Port Royal? Elizabeth would never have imagined herself stranded on a lost island with a notorious pirate drinking rum. At the moment, however, she was the only one drinking the vile stuff.

"Jaaaack?!"

"What?" The odd tinkling of beads sounded as he turned his head and squinted up at her. "'S my watch then?"

"You fell asleep," she accused.

"I did not."

"You were _sleeping_," she insisted.

"Thinkin' is all," he determined, unwinding his arms and shifting his weight onto his left elbow. He cringed when he realized what he had said, seeing Elizabeth's hopeful expression return. He jerkily grabbed a fistful of air inches from his mouth. "No, no, no, that is, I meant to say, uh, reclining…reclining with lack of purpose? Really no thought to it," he finished lamely, knuckles brushing his lips in chagrin.

Wonderful. Despite the weight of weariness on his body, Jack would have happily –sorry, Bootstrap- run through his friend's troublesome offspring with his sword if the lad washed up on shore. Will Turner had made an incredible mess of things. Maybe he had the blood, but not the instincts of a pirate – unless you counted his actions inside the treasure caves. Apparently, Will did have his _own_ code of which Jack had become privy to the _hard _way. He touched the swollen knot below his left ear.

_Bloody stupid, foolish William_.

The lad's worthless bargain had saved no one. And now, nothing could stop Captain Barbossa from sacrificing his blood to the heathen gods

"You were thinking again about the last time?" the woman pressed eagerly. "Do you have a plan yet to get us off this island and save Will?"

Jack scowled. He hated the helplessness that she made him feel. He pushed himself up off the sand and started to climb to his feet, but thought better of it. His face reflected his annoyance and exasperation. "No, and no to that, as well, _Miss_ Swann. I am sorry to tell you, but William truly has no one left, darlin', what cares to save him as thanks to his rescuing _your_ fair self, _I _have no ship, me crew's in the brig and, once again, I am stuck on this bloody island!!" He drew himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he pursed his lips. "Where's my rum gone?"

"You're mad at Will because of me," she ventured.

"Mad? At William?" Jack's eyes smoldered. "Ah, now _why_, _Miss_ Swann, would I be _mad_," he asked, dark brows visible beneath the red bandana, "as havin' the great fortune of making said acquaintance be naught but hardship, injury and trouble! Pirate's blood? Ha!!"

Elizabeth shook her head, quickly coming to Turner's defense. "You can't honestly think all this has not been difficult for Will as well!" she returned heatedly. "He's not a pirate, Jack. He's a good, honest man only trying to do what he believes is right!" She watched the hard expression on his face ease as he listened, grudgingly considering. "I think it's unfair of you to expect so much from him."

"Oh, do you?" The pirate groaned, relenting, unable to admit that he might be a little envious of Will Turner. "Of course you do. Where's me rum?"

Elizabeth ignored him, slowly retrieving her own bottle from the sand next to Jack's hip. "There _has_ to be a way off this island…" She took a long swallow of rum from her bottle to convince herself.

"Not unless you can spot us a passing sea turtle."

"Sea turtle?" Elizabeth echoed, giggling as she swiped her gold-brown hair off her face and nearly toppled into the sand beside him. "Oh, Jack, that's hardly funny!" She laughed hysterically, pressing the bottle to her stomach. "I don't find that funny, at all!"

Jack grimaced, watching her uncertainly. "One would think not," he observed and struggled to sit up. "Ohh!" He'd almost forgotten about his leg, the only injury he'd suffered during the frantic battle with the _Interceptor. _He'd done his best not to favor it in front of Barbossa or the uppity _Miss_ Swann, but finding the hidden cache of rum had physically cost him. He had had no choice but to distract her with the truth – and it had worked. He was sure that Elizabeth had been so shocked that she hadn't seen his actual pain before he could dull it with rum. But the drink just wasn't strong enough. It was throbbing again, probably stinging from the salt water.

Damn, he couldn't ignore it any longer. Pretending to look around for his rum bottle, Jack glanced surreptitiously down at the back of his left lower leg and almost gasped. Bloody hell! Three aligned swollen, dark red punctures, tinier than bullet holes turning an ugly purple.

Unfortunately for Jack, Gibbs' flask had not been the only thing shot through a ragged hole of his cell from the _Interceptor_. Raising his sore leg higher in the sand, Jack silently cursed the fool whom had thought to use silverware, of all things, as ammunition against the _Pearl_.

The End


End file.
